Adorable A.I.

Continued from: Doctor Patel

Summer and I have a little surprise for all of you. You remember Summer, don't you? My precious wife, born in Paris, speaks with a cute French accent, maintains her job as a flight attendant so she can sell her cabin crew hosiery and heels, and most importantly, the lowercase 's' in our D/s marriage.  

If I had to describe her in one word, it would simply be...adorable. 

In a story called The Sims are brought to Life, and another one called The OG's, I began to dabble in A.I. generated images of not only myself, but some of the other characters who appear in the blog. 

It more or less started out looking like this:

The character of Summer, in the Sims 4 game, has a signature hairstyle that was uniquely hers. The A.I. seemed to run with this theme no matter what the setting of the photo was. 

Isn't she adorable, with her little figure-skater arse? 

Without having to prompt the A.I., the braids carried into most of the selfie requests for Summer. In this one, she and I were about to have a playdate in the living room. 

Corner time, a spot in the house she knows intimately well. The A.I. kept her adorable aesthetic and quintessential hair style. 

When she's not in the timeout corner, Summer can play the role of teacher...

...as easily as she can play the student. (In the description of the setting for this photo, I think I just said "chalkboard in a classroom". The A.I. generates its own gibberish on the board, as you can see above and below. Secret robot language maybe? Plotting to destroy humanity?) 

Most fans of Summer will also know that her default role at home is that of a "little". She doesn't speak like a baby or need to be changed or fed, unless we're playing a scene like that, but around the house, she feels most at peace dressing like an exaggeration of a little girl. 

Domestic Discipline, MDLG, D/s relationship, is probably how I would officially describe our dynamic. 

From the sweet lips of Summer, I am usually "Mommy", sometimes I'm "Ma'am", and occasionally, "Mistress". 

This one is definitely a "Ma'am" moment. Ohhhh she was about to get the spanking of her life, that day!

Mistress mode? Sometimes we dabble in the upscale dungeon space, yes. 

Sometimes she ends up down in the basement, in the darker, more captive dungeon space. 

When not in a defined role, Summer will usually be working on her feet content.

Perhaps or out for a jog, ensuring her hosiery or socks, her sneakers, are pleasantly infused with her gorgeousness, before they go up for sale online. 

Clients who want to spend a little more money on all things Summer, can anxiously wait for a trans-Atlantic flight pair of nylons. 

That's her bestie, Vanessa, who first got her started on the cabin crew hosiery sales racket. I have a major girl-crush on Vanessa to the point that I even let her Domme me once. Summer was ok with it. 

Gawd it was so hot! I think that story was called I often envy submissives.

Vanessa is an absolute Goddess, you should go back and read about what she does to and with her husband *giggle. 

But, this post is not about being a Goddess, it's about being adorable. And no one really pulls it off as well as my darling wife, Summer Addison Holiday.

Ok, we're going to try a video here. Hopefully it works. 

and...

Surprise, everyone! Summer is real!

And thank you A.I., for bringing this sprinkle of sunshine to life. Even in this little clip, she was nothing short of adorable. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Old Fashioned

Lord Impaler

Continued from: Halloween Harem

In keeping with our Halloween theme this week, it seems young Cassandra and Carley have made their way to the far side of Romania. Makes sense, given the dark, gothic nature of those two and the time of year. She sent me an entry from her personal journal which I'll transcribe for all of you here, I didn't realize Cassandra can be so deep sometimes, amidst her introspection and the way she creates a nexus between herself, her feelings, and the environment around her; albeit, a bit spastic of a writing style.

She even caught me with a few tear-jerker moments. I adore this little pixie. 

Here's her journal entry:

Cassandra Goth

10.30.2024

Port of Constanta, Black Sea, Romania...

It's cold here, Mistress. The food sucks.

I have the loving embrace of Carley to keep me warm though, in this strange place.  

Actually, their cabbage rolls are quite nice, even though they have Turkish origins. I guess when the Turks invaded Romania in the 15th century, repelled by the ferocity and questionable combat methods of Vlad Dracul, they left something behind. 

Is that not one of Newton's laws? In order for humans to really go anywhere, you have to leave something behind. What shall I leave behind here, on the shores of this sea? The sky above me looks angry, the water is frigid. This is a dark place, Mistress and your cabbage rolls are better! 

Since it's almost Halloween, I learned some things about Vlad, and his marred reputation of being the bad guy. Was he? Was he not a leader just trying to protect his people, his religion and his homeland from an invading foreign ruler?  

He was the first military leader in recorded history to use biological warfare as a tactic to soften the battlefield and a compliment to his psychological warfare. 

He released people from his prisons, often afflicted with bubonic plague, rabies and tuberculosis, to infiltrate the encampments of the Turks. Apparently he even used animals for the same purpose.

Symptoms:

Red eyes, foaming at the mouth, coughing up blood, erratic behaviour

Carriers:

15th century prison rats, wolves and foxes, rodents. A bat is a rodent...

You can see how the concept of a vampire was born, through a mixture of both legend and reality. This is also the reason why Carley and I find ourselves here. We are attending a vampire party in Transylvania tonight. I'm excited! I might get a new tattoo, a sexy vampire one to commemorate this trip. 

What else did we leave behind when Carley and I embarked on this European journey? Our sissy...Mistress, we have a sissy slave. He goes by Alice and he's back in the U.K. His chastity keys however, are with me, in Romania. You taught me well, Ma'am. Should I cast them into the sea before me? Into these angry waters, as the item I leave behind? He's nice though, not like other men, he's polite and we're working on shattering the remnants of his masculinity.  

Men in general, have never held much appeal for me. Their posturing, their arrogance, their inflated sense of self-importance - it all reeks of a desperate need to assert dominance over others, particularly women. 

I collared Carley as my own, shortly after the wedding. She's submissive only to me and never to a man! With Alice we are equals, Carley and I, she is surprisingly as dominant and as ferocious as I am, Mistress. I want you to get to know her, my wife, she's my everything. Maybe one day I'll come home and convince her to stay in Canada.

I miss you, Mistress. You're like a mother to me and I love you for that. I haven't talked to my actual Mom in awhile, not since she found out about the wedding. Could you talk to her for me, and tell her I'm ok?

I don't know if I wanna come home, but it's you, it's Summer, who I miss the most. Send Summer my love, tell her I miss her too. I'm not sure I can picture a world without you two in my life.  

I miss your firm guidance and support, the kind that only you can provide, it grounds me. I spank Carley plenty, but she doesn't spank me...I don't see her that way or in that role. It's why I still need you, Mommy. I'll come home to you soon, but we kinda opened a studio over here. 

That's right. It's a "Facility" in London...kinda like yours but much darker. Carley and I are the only two Dommes at the moment. There is certainly no one called "Mommy" in our place, people are usually crying for their Mommy though. 

From the moment "Alice" entered our domain, Carley and I knew that we had found our perfect plaything. His wide-eyed innocence and eagerness to please made him the ideal candidate for our brand of transformation. With the skills you taught me, we guided him through the process of feminization, watching with glee as he shed the trappings of his masculinity and embraced his new identity as, Alice, our sissy secretary. 

The chastity device was the first step, a symbol of his complete and utter submission to our will. We've had him locked for 70 days now, Mistress, with five minutes of supervised release, once a week for cleaning and shaving. 

We carefully curated a collection of lingerie for him, hosiery, pencil skirts and blouses designed to accentuate his new role as our sissy secretary. 

Remember when I was your secretary, Mistress? I miss those days too, things seemed simpler back then. Alice doesn't quite look as good as I used to in this role, but it's a start for him, the little breast-forms he wears in his bras are cute.  

We basically behave like it's Mad Men and he's a 1950's secretary. There's something undeniably satisfying about watching him scurry about the office, his hips swaying provocatively in his pencil skirts, his heels clicking against the floor. 

Carley and I take great pleasure in subjecting him too the same kind of sexual harassment and objectification that women have endured for generations. A firm slap on the ass as he bends over to retrieve a file, a lingering grope of his bra. 

He doesn't get to touch us, ever. He's listened to Carley and I fuck before, while he was in a cage, but he's pussyfree, everything free...not even our footwear. If Alice wants our attention it's a spanking, chores, menial tasks, or the strap-on. 

I'll reach down and tangle my fingers into his wig, forcing him to look up at me from under my desk. "Keep going, slut," I'll growl, my voice thick with lust and authority. "Show me how badly you want that raise." And oh, how he'll work for it...even though there is no raise at all, his head bobbing frantically on my dildo before I send him back to his desk, threating to fire him.  

While I may enjoy the psychological games, the mindfuckery of it all, Carley is more of a hands-on type of gal. And what she wants, more often than not, is to fuck our little sissy secretary senseless. 

Maybe it's she, who is Lord Impaler? 

It's become something of a ritual really, about twice a week. Carley will saunter into the office with a wicked gleam in her eye and a bulge in her dress pants. She'll crook her finger at Alice and off they go, disappearing into the copy room or a broom closet. 

She'll hike up his skirt and hike down his lacey panties and claim him. I can almost hear it now amidst these waves behind me, Mistress. The slap of flesh against flesh as Carley has him bent over the copier, fucking his boi pussy while his chastity cage bounces around between his thighs. 

A few strands of pre-cum dribble down into his panties, it must be so humiliating and frustrating, that this is Alice's only source of pleasure. It's a curious sight, really - the way his body betrays him, leaking that telltale fluid despite the fact he's locked up in a nub-cage. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his base desires and his need to please, to submit.

Part of me thinks he might be more interested in your style, Mistress. The princess dresses and little girl bedrooms, Mary Janes and bows. If we come home, maybe we'll bring Alice too, he'll be sufficiently emasculated by that point, as Carley and I continue to erode his former identity. 

Should I just throw his keys into the sea, and seal his fate forever? I'm thinking about it again. Then call him and break the news? We left him behind to manage The Facility U.K. - is it okay if I call it that, Mistress? I thought it would be dope to still be affiliated to you and your unique brand. I can send you a cut of our profits if you wish?  

Speaking of which, prostitution sessions are all the hype! 

Like safe, simulated, immersive experiences of playing the role of a sex trade worker. The women over here, the British women, go wild for this option! Everything from high-class, hotel lobby hooker, to literally kneeling behind a dumpster in an alley. Everyone wants to book the experience, we have a waiting list. 

It comes at a decent rate for us. Carley and I are essentially hands off, a great return on investment. We should collab on this for your own place, Mistress, just think about some male clients you really trust. 

I better go, we have to get ready to attend the party...in a castle! I guess I should feel like a princess, huh? But I don't. 

I feel like the empowered woman you made me, your perfect creation, your perfect Dominatrix...

Love always, 

Cassie xo    

Continued in: Boardrooms & Bedrooms   

  

 

Addendum

Continued from: Ma'am to Mistress

A Sarah Jane story 

As the gentle rays of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, I stirred from my sleep, my body pressed against the warmth of Russell's peaceful form. 

My eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of my beloved boy, his masculine frame clad in the frilly pink panties I had insisted he wear to bed the night before. It was the second Sunday since the beginning of our FLR contract (female-led-relationship). 

A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face as I recalled the significance of the day ahead. Maintenance Sunday, our sacred ritual was upon us once again. My gaze drifted down to Russell's groin, where the outline of this chastity device was clearly visible beneath the thin fabric of his panties. Fourteen days had passed since his penis last felt freedom, and his mounting frustration filled me with a sense of profound satisfaction. 

As Russell began to stir awake, I guided his head between my thighs. "Good morning, my pet," I purred, my voice thick with sleepy desire. "I require your tongue this morning." 

Over the past two weeks I have been deliberately using language like this, eloquent and Goddess-like. "Go down on me or, lick my pussy," has its time and place, but "I require an orgasm to start my day," is much better. The word "require" leaves little debate as to my status as his Queen. 

Obediently, he nuzzled against my pussy, the warm breath of his French kiss sending shivers of electricity through my body. 

As the last tremors of my orgasm subsided, I gently stroked his hair, a silent acknowledgement of his devoted service. "Very good, my sweetie," I hissed in satisfaction. "Prepare my coffee please, and remain in those adorable panties only, I'll be down shortly." 

I tiptoed up behind Russell, as he busied himself in the kitchen, preparing my coffee with the utmost care and attention. I cupped the cheeks of his panty-clad bottom to give it a squeeze, before fixing him with a stern yet loving gaze. 

"Young man," I began, strict and authoritative. "I have decided that we shall not delay your maintenance spanking. Last week's drawn-out anticipation, while effective in building tension, proved to be somewhat disruptive to our daily routine."

"Therefore, once you have finished your coffee, you are to head upstairs and shower. After this, put your delightful, pink panties back on and wait for me in the corner of the spanking room, is that understood?" 

Russell's eyes widened slightly at my pronouncement, a flicker of nervous excitement dancing within their depths. "Y-yes, Ma'am," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. 

During his shower, I took a moment to transform myself into the epitome of feminine authority. Slipping into a figure-hugging pencil skirt, I paired it with a crisp white blouse that accentuated my curves. Black seamed stockings and towering stiletto heels completed my ensemble, lending an air of power to my appearance. 

I swept my blonde hair into a severe bun behind my head, not a single strand out of place, and perched my reading glassing upon the bridge of my nose. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror was one of a woman in complete control, which I couldn't help but realize was the paradox of my recent internal conflict and my longing for submission. 

As I entered the spanking room, my heels clicking authoritatively against the hardwood floor, I was greeted by the sight of Russell standing obediently in the corner. One by one, I laid out some implements on the desk, several hairbrushes, a strap, a belt, and with a final satisfied nod, a box of tissues, just in case. 

The final smacks of this Sunday's maintenance landed upon Russell's bare bum. I allowed my hand to linger, cupping his heated flesh possessively. 

Gently, I helped him to his feet, steadying him as he regained his balance. With a tender smile, I guided him back to a corner of the room, positioning him on his knees this time, with his nose to the wall. "There you go, my sweet boy," I cooed. "Bottom red, panties down, just as Mommy likes." 

I sat back down in the spanking chair, the room was deathly quiet, and checked the time on my phone as a secretive smile spread across my face. From downstairs, I heard my front door, followed by approaching footsteps, the unmistakable click of high heels against my staircase. 

I watched as Russell's body tensed, his shoulders rising as he fought the urge to turn and investigate the source of two sets of high heels, power-strutting into my home office. 

In the doorway, stood the striking figures of Mistress Andrea and Summer. Both women were dressed as I was, in corporate power attire, their outfits chosen to emphasize their feminine dominance. 

As they entered the room, their eyes immediately fell upon Russell kneeling in the timeout corner, his bare bottom on display, his panties pooled around his ankles. I could see the initial shock register on their faces, quickly replaced by amusement and appreciation. 

Stepping into her role, the reason she and Summer made this surprise visit today, Mistress extended her hand to shake mine. "Good morning, Sarah, I'm your retained counsel, Miss Andrea," she remarked, with a smirk playing across her face. "This is my personal assistant and associate counsel, Miss Holliday," Mistress spoke firmly as she continued her act. I, of course, played along for Russell's benefit, or detriment, however you wish to look at it from his current state in the corner. 

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," I gestured towards the plush armchairs arranged in the opposing corner of the office. As they settled themselves, their eyes remained fixed upon Russell, drinking in the sight of his humiliation. 

"As you can see, we were just finishing up our weekly maintenance. Isn't he a sight to behold?" I purred, my gaze sweeping appreciatively over his exposed form. My attention turned back to Mistress as she started to get down to business.  

Mistress Andrea reached into her briefcase, extracting a crisp manila folder with a flourish. "As your official counsel, it's our duty to ensure that all aspects of your...unique arrangement are properly documented. This is the addendum you asked us to prepare for you, Miss Sarah, is that correct?" 

I nodded in approval as I perused the one-page document, my eyebrows raised in surprise. The document outlined several new clauses. As I read, I couldn't help but clench my thighs together to quell the ache, as a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine.

Terms of Switching Roles

This was the delicious looking title at the top of the addendum. 

The idea of temporarily reversing our roles, of surrendering control to Russell for a designated period, had my heart pounding out of my chest. It would be the best of both worlds! 

My manicured fingers reached the bottom of a page. where I scanned a section with the title of: 

Notwithstanding

I looked up at Andrea, slightly confused as I read the sub-heading:

Non-derogation clause 

"Madam Counsellor," I asked softly and submissively, "what's a non-derogation clause?"

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Non-derogation Clause

The Belle of the Ball

Continued from: The Cost of Admission

A Sarah Jane story

I arrived to the party like this:

When the party ended, I looked more like this: 

I was shackled up in the filthy urinal room, beside another piss-whore I recently became acquainted with, when a dominant man made me lick her asshole. My once-elegant gown was strewn carelessly aside and soaked in urine. The metallic tang of cum still lingered on my lips, mingling with the bitter taste of piss. There was smeared writing all over my naked body. Words like "whore", "pig", "filthy" and "anal slut". 

In that moment, the writing on my naked body could not have been more true, the room even smelled of poop a-little, having just been fucked in the bum by some random man. 

I had made it through all the degrading stations of the evening. After my toilet brush gag, came a toilet paper gag, while my dress was still pristine and outfit in-tact. 

I had to kneel beside the toilet in a powder room for a few hours, reduced to a human bathroom tissue dispenser!

After this, came the disgusting funnel-gag station!

It was definitely time to wrap this night up and find comfort in Daddy's arms, after a long, hot shower.

As I stepped beneath the warm showerhead, the torrent of water washed away the lingering remnants of piss and cum, restoring a semblance of cleanliness to my degraded body. But my mind seethed, still trapped in the turbulent waves of arousal and humiliation that seemed to feed off one another. 

My thoughts fixated on the memories of being pissed on then sodomized. My fingers danced with a life of their own, diddling my little clit to the memories, until I finally had to reach for the Hitachi. 

In record time, orgasm ripped through me like a seismic event, leaving my legs shaking in its aftermath. I dried off returned to my age regressed status. 

I squeezed into a baby pink onesie, the fabric soft against my skin. The pigtails felt silly, but I went with it, wanting to please Daddy. On all fours, I crawled into the living room where the trio of Daddy, Mistress Andrea and Summer were seated. I half-expected to walk in on some raging threesome of dick and pussy and tits, but they were quite literally watching a movie and eating popcorn. It was cute, Summer was dressed like a little girl too, and was sitting on both their laps like they were Mommy and Daddy. 

Speaking of cute. I felt cute again, not like the filthy piss-whore of my recent experience. I curled into my pet bed in the corner of the room and waited for someone to notice me and call me over.

Of course it was Daddy! His face lit up when he saw me, and he opened his arms. I scurried over, crawling into his lap like an obedient puppy. The other two watched with amusement, and for a minute, everything else melted away. I was Daddy's little girl again, seeking comfort and protection. But as Daddy stroked my hair and asked me how the party was, a spark of shame flickered to life. Last night's depravity replayed in my mind - the piss, the cocks, the toilets - and I felt a dark thrill knowing that Daddy didn't know the extent of my debasement. 

That secret knowledge was turning me on. Grinning mischievously, I wiggled against Daddy's leg, the three crotch-snaps of my onesie rubbing proactively against his pantleg. Mistress and Summer continued snuggling but watched-on with keen interest. "She looks like she wants more, Daddy," they stated in harmony, their voices tinged with sly innuendo. 

I blushed, nodding furtively as the truth spilled forth in a hushed admission. " I was a very, very bad girl tonight, Daddy."

He stood and paused the movie, his hands moving with purpose now. The telltale jingle of Daddy's belt buckle echoed through the room, followed by the unmistakable snap of the leather through jean-loops.

With a quiet sense of resignation, I draped myself across Daddy's lap, feeling the worn denim cradle my tummy, as my bottom was presented into the air. "This is for your own good, young lady," Daddy lectured, each word punctuated by another strike of his belt. Mistress Andrea and Summer just quietly watched my strapping, their faces aglow with mild amusement.

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Slumber Party